"Then said the angel, with majestic air,-- 'The chain of destiny thou seest there. Accept whate'er it gives, and murmur not; For hard necessity has cast each lot.' He vanish'd--I awoke with sudden start, But that strange dream was graven on my heart. I go wherever fate shall please to call,-- Without God's leave, no fly to earth can fall." It thunders--and from midnight's mirky cloud, Comes peal on peal reverberating loud: The froth-clad breakers cast, with sullen roar, A Scottish bark upon the whiten'd shore. Straight to the royal palace hasten then A lovely maid and thirty sea-worn men. Minona, Scotland's princess, Scotland's boast, The storm has driven to the Danish coast. Oft, while the train hew timber in the groves, Minona, arm in arm, with Harrald roves. Warm from his lip the words of passion flow; Pure in her eyes the flames of passion glow. One summer eve, upon a mossy bank, Mouth join'd to mouth, and breast to breast, they sank: The moon arose in haste to see their love, And wild birds carroll'd from the boughs above. But now the ship, which seem'd of late a wreck, Floats with a mast set proudly on her deck. Minona kisses Harrald's blooming face, Whilst he attends her to the parting place. His bold young heart beats high against his side-- She sail'd away--and, like one petrified, Full long he stood upon the shore, to view The smooth keel slipping through the waters blue. Months pass, and Sigrid's sorrow disappears; The wild death-raven's might no more she fears; A gentle red bedecks her cheek again, And briny drops her eye no longer stain. "My Harrald stalks in manly size and strength; Swart bird of darkness, I rejoice at length; If thy curst claw could hurt my gallant son, Long, long, ere this, the deed would have been done." But Harrald look'd so moody and forlorn, And thus his mother he address'd one morn: "Minona's face is equall'd by her mind; Methinks she calls me from her hills of wind? Give me a ship with men and gold at need, And let me to her father's kingdom speed; I'll soon return, and back across the tide Bring thee a daughter, and myself a bride." Dame Sigrid promis'd him an answer soon, And went that night, when risen was the moon, Deep through the black recesses of the wood, To where old Bruno's shelter'd cabin stood. She enter'd--there he sat behind his board, His woollen vestment girded by a cord; The little lamp, which hung from overhead, Gleam'd on the Bible-leaves before him spread. "Hail to thee, Father!--man of hoary age, Thy Queen demands from thee thy counsel sage. Young Harrald to a distant land will go, And I his destiny would gladly know: Thou read'st the stars,--O do the stars portend That he shall come to an untimely end? Take from his mother's heart this one last care, And she will always name thee in her pray'r."